


and a very Silent Night to you too

by LiberAmans214



Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2020 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bickering, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is a Winchester (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Christmas Fluff, Cursed Dean Winchester, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Humor, Harmless though, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester has the time of his life, Team Free Will (Supernatural), Witch Curses, bend-me-shape-me's SPN Advent Calendar 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: You know what Dean hates more than witches? People who wear sunglasses indoors. More than that? Witches who have a questionable affinity for Christmas carols and intolerable mischief. Next time Sam starts to bitch about Halloween being the worst holiday, Dean Winchester is going to bepreparedto prove him wrong. Via uncontrollable rage mutely translated by a monotoned, fairly-concerned angel, of course.ORThe One in which Sam Winchester catches up on 3 lost decades of teasing, Dean Winchester brutally botches Silent Night and Cas is a self-proclaimed Dean-whisperer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038195
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104





	and a very Silent Night to you too

“It could be worse.” Sam repeats.

Cas nods.

A killing spree, loss of memory, hallucinations — take your pick. Relative to the scale of havoc they’d seen witches wreak in their day, this was mild. Harmless.

Funny.

“Dashing through the snow.” Dean lets out morosely, as if in reluctant agreement, while Sam’s restraint suffers a little more. That seems to annoy Dean further, and he glares at his brother. “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas!”

That’s probably supposed to be a profanity, but Sam doubles over laughing.

Dean flips him off, and chooses to ignore Sam by turning to Cas with a look in his eyes tragic enough to invoke real compassion in the angel’s heart. He wishes he could help, of course, but spells either wear off, or are reversed by the witch (arguably more often, the murder of the witch). And he knows Dean knows he can’t help either, so a sympathetic nod has to suffice.

And in any case, even in all his billions of years, Cas has never seen a curse like this.

Dean canonly speak in carols.

Trust the Winchesters to irk the most creative witches into hexing them with the most obscure curses for Christmas.

“On the first day of Christmas,” Dean starts, voice questioning. Cas squints, paying even closer attention than usual — although, to be fair, conversations with Dean usually involve more focus on intonation than words, in regards to things he means and often doesn’t say. “My true love sent to me?”

“A partridge in a pear tree.” Sam completes immediately, looking extremely pleased with himself. (In his defense, had their positions been swapped, Dean would almost certainly have been more obnoxious about it.)

“I think,” Cas interrupts, right before Dean could start to curse at Sam inevitably in another carol. “He means what do we do now?”

Dean nods, focus snapped back to Cas. “Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer!”

Cas narrows his eyes. “He’s saying I’m right.”

“What, you speak caroltongue now?” Sam blinks, surprised.

“No, Sam. I speak Dean.” Cas answers sincerely, before turning his eyes to Dean again. “And I may not be able to read minds anymore, but maybe it’s enough for me to still translate for him.”

“Here comes Santa Claus?”

“Yeah.” Cas nods, earnest. And turning to Sam, “That was just a ‘yeah?’”

Sam looks like he wants to say something but then he changes his mind. “Okay. Okay, fine. So Dean speaks in carols, and you translate. Cool. Now,” he bites his lip, as if it pains him that they’re inching closer to the end of this ordeal, and turns to Dean. “Who did this to you?” They’d been in the middle of taking down a coven.

“Make the Yule-tide gay.”

“The greyhaired witch.” Cas says, not missing a beat.

Sam looks like he might not be done laughing yet. “The one in the sequins dress who called you, and I quote, a choirboy Scrooge?”

“Joy to the World.”

“Sam, he’s calling you a bitch.”

“Say, Cas, what’s carolspeak for jerk?” Sam snickers, and Cas tilts his head because he’d only just specified he couldn’t translate like _that_.

“Here comes Santa Claus.” Dean grouses, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Yeah, again?” Sam looks at Cas.

“No, I believe this time it means go to hell.” Cas tells him thoughtfully, and Sam rolls his eyes, leaving him wondering how the same phrase could mean such different things in this strange language, but then that certainly isn’t the only thing not making sense right now, so he decides to let it go.

*

Hunting down the witch is easy enough, and they nab a chance to confront her after less than three hours of stakeout — where once, in between, they almost got caught because Sam couldn’t stop laughing at Dean’s remorseful “Santa Baby” when he spilled cheese on his shirt — but everything works out in the end, and Sam’s made to swear he won’t laugh, and Dean’s made to promise that he won’t call Sam names in disguised carols, and then they’re off to take down Greta, the greyhaired witch.

(Dean nudges Cas to stay behind him when they’re about to barge in. At least, he vaguely pieces together that _that’s_ what Dean meant to say.

“All I Want for Christmas is You.” Is what he ends up saying though, slapping a hand over his mouth the moment the words have come out, flushing red.

Cas falters, and while he wouldn’t have listened to Dean’s (ridiculous) instruction anyway, he isn’t even sure it registers.

“Get a room.” Sam mutters eventually, either minutes or aeons later, and they’re pulled back to reality with Dean snapping a, “Silent Night!” At Sam, vicious enough to not need Cas’s participation to be understood.)

Ultimately, the witch is easy to deal with.

As expected, because Cas has finally learned to anticipate moral greyness in even the villains the Winchesters come up against, she asks for a pass to leave in return of returning Dean’s speaking abilities, but she promises to not cause harm (just as she never has before, she swears, and Sam and Dean eye her suspiciously but finally believe her) and stay out of covens of the sort, and that’s that.

Dean’s vocabulary is restored, which he chooses to test by swearing under his breath, and sagging when it comes out as it should, instead of a verse from Twelve Days Of Christmas.

And since Cas agrees that “6 Geese a Laying” doesn’t quite have the same impact as “Son of a bitch”, he squeezes Dean’s shoulder in reassurance when the latter sighs, immensely relieved.

*

On their way back to the Impala, the church bells ring, implying midnight.

Cas turns to find Dean looking at him, a strange swell of emotions in his eyes, which he hasn’t pieced together yet when Dean leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

It’s just a brush of lips, chaste, almost traditional, but Cas can feel his face heating up uncharacteristically, and Dean’s turning red again when he whispers, “Merry Christmas, Cas,” so maybe there’s more to it than it looks like, like with most things between them.

“Don’t you mean,” Sam grins, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes dancing. “We wish you a Merry Christmas, Dean?”

And just like that, Dean’s snapping out of the almost-trance, and taking off after his brother with curses on his lips that finally don’t come worded as carols anymore, although Sam laughs as gleefully as if they still are, easily keeping ahead of Dean to the latter’s extreme annoyance, and Cas shakes his head, because they’re _ridiculous —_

But they’re his family, and _everything_ to him now, and he knows he wouldn’t change any of it for the world, so it’s a merry Christmas after all.


End file.
